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MH* HENRY SEALS.) ■ c ANn ) Editor*. L. LINCOLN VEAZEY, > NEW SERIES. VOL. I. IIPEEICI ORUSWR. • ‘ pu&M&Jixn EVERY HATIRIIAY, EXCEPT TWO. IN THE YEAR, -BY JOHN H. SKAT,B. THRMF : ♦l.o*'. in eOvanre; or s2,ou at the end of the year. ‘ RATE* OF ADVERTISING, i square (twelve lines or lo^k> first insertion,, .&1 00 Each continuance, 50 JVofessionai or;Business Cards, not exceeding six lines, per year, * 5 00 Announcing Candidates for OflEc, :: 00 ST A MPTNU A-OVtatTKEMKNTS. I square, three months, 5 00 l square, six months, 7 00 1 square, twelve months, 12 00 •2 squares, “ “ 8 squares, 41 “ *-1 UO t squares, “ 44 —* 25 00 EF* Advertisements not marked with the number j of insertions, will he continued unti 1 forbid, and charged accordingly. Druggist*, and others, may con tract for advertising by the year, oe reasonable te* uis. 1 HOAL A I>V'i'RTT*EMENTS. Sale ofLan 1 or Negroes, by Administrators, j Executors, and Guardians, p-r square,... £OO j Sale of Persona 1 Property, by Administrators, j Executors, and iiua v 3. per square,... .3 25 Notice to Debtors and Creditors, o 25 Notice, for Leave to Sell, - Citation for l etters of Administration, 2 75 Citation for Letters of Dismission from Adm’n. 5 00 Citation for T etters of Dismission from Guardi anship, 3 25 LEGAL requirement*. Sales of Land and Negroes, by Administrators, Executors, or Guardians, are required by law to be held on the first Tuesday in the month, between the hours of ten in the forenoon and three in the after noon, at the Court House in the County in which the property is situate. Notices of these sales must be given in a public gazette forty days previous to the day of sale. Notices for the sale of Personal Property must be given at least trn days previous to the day of sale. Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate must Ive published/or£y days. Notice that application will be made to the Court of Ordinary for leave to soil Land or Negroes, must be published weekly for two months. Citations for ‘Letters of Administration must be published thirty days —for Dismission from Admin istration, monthly , six months —for Dismission from Guardianship, forty days. Rules for Foreclosure of Mortgage must be pub lished monthly for four months --for compelling titles from Executors or Administrators, where a bond has been given bv the deceased, the fvJl spore of three months. will always be continued accord ing to these, the legal requirements, unles® otherwise ordered. * The Law of Newspapers, X. Subscribers who do not give express notice to the contrary, are considered as wishing to continue, their subscription. 2. If subscribers order the discontinuance of their newspapers, the publisher may continue to smd them until all arrearages arc paid. ,3. If subscribers neglect or refuse to take their newspapers from the offices to which they are di rected, they are held responsible until they have set tled the bills and ordered them discontinued. 4. If subscribers remove to other placos without informing the publishers, and the newspapers are sent to (lie former direction, thev arc hold responsi ble. 5. Tho Courts have decided that refusing to take newspapers ‘from the office, or removing and leaving them uncalled for. is primafarir. evidence of inten tional fraud. 0. The United Stales Courts have also repeatedly decided, that a Postmaster who neglects to perform his duty of giving reasonable notice, as required by the Post Office Department, of the neglect of a per son to take from, the office newspapers addressed to him, renders the Postmaster liable to the publisher ior the subscription price. JOB PRINTIN'G. of every description, done with .neatness and dispatch, at this office, and at reasonable prices for cash. All orders, in this department, must be addressed to J. T. BLAIN. PROSPECTIS OF THE TiMPMOE CRUSAIR, [quondam] TEMPERANCE BANNER. A CTUATED by a conscientious desire to further j y\ the cause of Temperaoce, and experiencing j erreat disadvantage in being too narrowly limited in space, by the smallness of out paper, for the publica- i tion of Reform Arguments and Passionate Appeals, we have determined to enlarge it to a more conve nient and acceptable size. And being conscious of the fact that there are existing in the minds of a large portion of the present readers of the Banner and its former patrons, prejudices and difficulties which can never be removed so long as it retains the name, wo venture also to nia! j a change in that par ticular. It will henceforth be c-le 1, “THE T r \t- PERANCE CRUSADER.” This old pioneer of the Temperance cause is des- 1 tined yet to chronicle the tr.nmph of its principles. ! P has stood the test- passed through the “fiery fur- i nace ” and, like the “Hebrew children,” re .ppeured j m.scorched. It has surwert the farnne • which has caused, and is s : ” causing many excel- ] lent journals and periodicals to sink like “bright ex halations in the evening,” to rise no more, and it has even heralded the “death struggles of many contem poraries, laboring for the same great end with itself. It “still lives,” and “waxing bolder as it gl ows older, Is now waging an eternal “Crusade against the “In fernal Liquor Traffic,” standing like the “High Priest ’ of the Israelites, who stood between the people and the plague that threatened destruction. We entreat the friends of the Temperance Cause to give us their influence in extending the usefulness of the paper. We intend presenting to the public a sheet worthy of all attention and a liberal patronage; for while it is strictly a Temperance Journal, we shall endeavor to keep its readers posted on all the current events throughout the country. MST*Pnce, as heretofore, sl, strictly m advance. ** JOHN 11. SEALS, Editor and Proprietor. Penfleld, Gft* Dec. 8,1865. Ittarta to Cetnpenntcf. |§ont% jfitmtturf, (general Intelligence,. Betas, fa. THE PAST AND PRESENT CONDITION OF THE NEGRO. ! The New York Observer, in the course |of an article on slavery, says: When the | ancestors of those negroes were torn from | their homes in Africa by the slave-traders ! of Old England and New England, and pla ; ced under the influence of Christianity at the ! South, they were among the most degraded i and miserable of the human species, slaves j of cruel masters, the victims of bloody su ! perstitions, believers in witchcraft and vvor- I shippers of the devil. And what now is the condition of their i descendants? Several years ago more than 300.000 of them were members of Protes tant Evangelical churches in the slavehold ing States! About 10,000 American ne groes, trained chiefly at the South, trans planted to Liberia, now rule nearly 200,000 natives of Africa, and through their schools and churches are spreading the light and love of the gospel in that land of darkness and heathenism. It is true that more than nine-tenths of the negroes at die South are still nlaves; but is slavery under chrLtian masters in America the same evil with slavery under heathen ty rants in Africa? Degraded as these slaves may still be, compared with the sons of the pilgrims in New England, or even with the j mass of laborers in some of the enlightened j countries in Europe, can 3.000,000 or 1,000,- 000 negroes, bond or free, be found in any ! part of the world, who can compare for good j condition, physical, intellectual and moral, with the 3,000 000 slaves at the South? Has Christianity, aided by all the wealth of Brit ish Christians, done as much during the last twenty years for the elevation of the 800, 000 emancipated negroes in the West In d.es, British philanthropists themselves be ing the judges of what it has effected there, as it Ims done during the same period for the elevation of our 3,000,000 American slaves? . - EDUCATION OF SOUTHERN YOUTH. i Not, long since the editor of the N. Y. I Tribune—the mouth piece of a great party | and the organ of a prevailing sentiment in I the North—spoke of Southern students in ; Northern colleges as nuisances, whom it was not desirable to have, and expressed with scarcely an attempt at disguise, the hope that they would soon cease to cross Mason and Dixon’s line. Jt was an inso lent taunt, and probably expressed more ; than was really felt. Tho disposition to ‘insult and proscribe is doubtless rapid ! enough, but there are advantages to the I North in the presence among them of so ’ many Southern youths as are annually sent there to obtain their education, which are likely to overbalance in the minds of a thrifty and calculating people, many con sideration* of sentiment or animosity. The large sums which are expended among themselves by Southern parents, make an important item in the account of profits, and arc, therefore, not to be overlooked. There is, besides, another w.tisideration, which will have weight with zealats ha ter* of Southern institut ion* second on y to the contemplation of gain in the hand ling of slaveholder’.* money. The irnpor tance of gaining an early influence over the minds of the rising generation of the South, and the. opportunity of shaping their habits of thought, and giving them that in- i sensible bias, which springs from the first impression* aud the first lessons, are ad vantages in the race for political ascendency between the theories of the North and those of the South, which will count ofeven more value than the money price received for undertaking the task. Such crazy pol iticians as Greely, blunder when they cross the policy of the more astute of their Northern brethren, and seek tc#drive off Southern students by this style of ribald insult. But the iessoti which such denunciations should impress upon Southern minds is not the less valuable that it is bad policy for the North. The raising up of i- stitutions upon Southern ground for the instruction of Southern youth is not the less essential for protection and self-defence, because the jeers ot our open enemies are rebuked, in their own laud, as a rash and foolish in terference with the interests of the North ern section. On the contrary, the motives assigned for moderation in the expression of these sentiments, and the grounds tacit ly assumed, of advantage to the principles as weli as the interests of the North in the j ; preservation of this privilege of educating * j Southern youth, should urge the parents of the South more decidedly to aid iu the j reaving and support ng Southern Schools | and colleges, escaping tueroby from con [tiuual in lit, and g.-iining the more i.ssen j | rial advantage of applying their means iu ! such a way a c to improve the material re- j ; sources and elevate the character and ; strengthen the defences of their own hoems;— N. 0. Picayune. DANGER OF BURYING TOO SOON. Tiie danger of too rapid interment was exemplified in a very extraordinary manner recently according to one of our exchanges. A young man who had been suffering from a malignant fever, to all appearance died. To avoid the danger of infection which might arise from a corpse remaining in the house all night, a coffin was immedi ately commenced, the certificate of death PEMELD, GA, SATURDAY, JULY 12. 1850, ‘ isent for, and urgent application was made to the incumbent of a church to allow the corpse to be interred the- same evening. This, however, he declined, considering the proceeding too hasty, but consented to the interment taking place the following morning. The result proved the proprie ty of the delay. The grave, was dug and the coffin was ready ; but the dead man, in the course of the night, made signs of re turning animation: and at the hour fixed -tor the burial was in the comfortable cn joy me rit of a cup of coffee which he had re quested, with every prospect of recovery. WILL YOU TAkSTa GLASS 7 BY AUNT JULIA. O, yes, I know you will. You have grown up to be almost a man. What will you take? Will you sip a sherry-cohler or sit down to a glass of lager beer? Or have you learned lo toss off a glass ofMadeira in genteel style? But what is the matter? You do not like my glass. I assure you it is genuine—a tried article. Many a man has drank long and deep of this very cup, and then asked for more. This is too much for you, eh?— I’d like to know whnt you have been in the habit of taking? Egg-nog, and toddy, and wine lemonade? Exactly. Well, even the spoonful in the bottom ol the toddy-glass, and the wine-dressing of your pudding | sauce, and the brandy in the mince-pies that your own mother made for you, came out !of this very cup. Only the creatures were I small then, and you could not see them so j plainly. I his is a glass for a full-grown j man, and I offered it to you because I thought that you were what you pretended to be, and here you are making up a face at it like a baby? Come, come! take it and drain it off boldly. Do you think it strange for me, your friend, to advise you thus ? It is not I. No true friend would do so. It is the demon of intemperance. Do you not see his skeleton fingers holding this dreadful cup? You need not say that wine and toddy do not look like what is in this cup. 1 assure you that they are a great deal worse. If you could drink down a tumbler of living snakes that would gnaw your heart out of your body, it would not be so bad as if you should drink intoxicating liquors. The snakes would only kill the body, but the liquors would drown the very soul; for they would fill it so full of wicked thoughts and desires that it could not go to heaven. Nor will it answer to take “just a little.” I once heard of a young man who stooped down to drink at a brook, and accidentally swallowed a little snake. It was very small, and at first did not hurt him in the least.— The man lived many years, but the snake was in his stomach. It grew every day. and finally it became so large that it ate ev erything which the man swallowed, so that he became poorer and poorer till he starved to death ! But. what do those names mean that are written on the snakes—Blasphemy, Murder, Death, &c. ? They mean that blasphemy, murder, madness,and death will follow those who indulge in the poison cup. Now, my young friend, what do you think of it ? Will you take a glass? Will you destroy your happiness for this world?— Will you peril your soul? I beg of you to say, once for all, “No ! no ! no ! I’ll never take a drop !” . GREAT LOVE. Some years ago, a Russian nobleman was traveling on special business in the interior of Russia. It was the beginning of winter, but the frost had set in early. His carriage rolled up to an inn, and he demanded a re lay of horses to carry him on to the next station, where he intended to spend the night. The innkeeper entreated him not to proceed ; for he said there was danger in traveling so late, the wolves were out. But the nobleman thought that the mail merely wanted to keep him as a guest; he said it was too early for the wolves, and ordered ; the horses to be put to. He then drove off, with his wife and his only daughter inside the carriage with him. On the box of the carriage was a serf, who had been born on the nobleman’s estate, and to whom he was much attached, and who loved his master as he loved his own life. They rolled over the hardened snow, and there seemed no signs of danger. The moon shed her pale light, and brought out into burnished silver the road on which they were going. At length the little girl said to her father, “What is that strange howling sound thnt I jus heard ?” *Oh nothing but the wind sighing through the forest trees,” replied the father. The child shut, her eyes, and was quiet. But she said again, “Listen father, it is not like the wind. I think.” The father listened ; and far, far away, in the | distance behind him, through the clear, cold j frosty air. he heard a noise which he too ! well knew the meaning of. He then put down the window, ad spoke to his servant: “The wolves 1 fear are after us; make haste. Tell the man to drive fas ter, and get your pistols ready.” The pos lillion drove faster. But the same mourn ful sound approached nearer and nearer.— It was quite clear that n. pack of wolves had scented them out. The nobleman tried to calm the anxious tears of his wife and child. At last the baying pack was distinctly heard. So he said to his servant, “ When they come up with us, do you single out one and fire, and I will single out another; and while the rest are devouring them, we shall get on. As soon as he put down the win dow he saw the pack in full erv behind the large dog wolf at their head. ‘ Two shots were fired, and two wolves fell. The oth ers instantly set. upon them and devoured them ; and meanwhile the enrrintfe sained ground. But the taste of blood only made them more furious, and they were soon up with the carriage again. Again two shots were i fired;, and two more fell, and were devour | the carriage was speedily overt, a j l <en ; an d the post house was yet far distant. ! The nobleman then ordered the postillion j to loose one of his leaders, that they .might ! gain a little time. This was done, and tire j poor horse plunged franticly into the forest, the wolves after him, and wras soon torn to pieces. Then another horse was sent off and shared the same fate. The carriage la bored on as fast as it could with the two re maining horses; but the post house was still distant. At length the servant said to his master. “I have served you ever since I was a child. I love you as Ido my own self. Nothing now can save you but one thing. Lei me save you, and I ask you only to look after my wife and little ones.” The nobleman re monstrated, but in vain. When the wolves next came up, the faithful servant threw himself amongst them. The two panting horses galloped with the carriage, and the gates of the post-house just closed in upon it as the fearful pack were 41 on the point of making the. last and fatal attack. But the travelers were safe. The next morning they went out and saw the place where the faithful servant had been pulled down by the wolves. Elis bones on ly werli there. And on that spot the noble man ere.-ted a wooden pillar, on which is written, “Greater love had no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” But God commended his love towards us in that w ? hile we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” LOSING A WIFE. A stalwart smith was recently married to a blooming bride. The day passed joy ously away, and evening found them at their lodgings, making merry with their friends. About seven o’clock the bridegroom went out with some of his companions for a walk, promising his fair young wife to be soon back, a promise which might have seemed to be superfluous. But the wanderers called at a public house, one glass of toddy followed another, the cup went round so often that the bride groom was drunk. In this condition he rose to go home. ‘‘There’s many a slip ’twixt cup and lip.” Midway between the intoxicating cup and the lips of his wedded wife, he slipp dto the earth, and fell asleep in an archway. The poor girl so early deserted, sat alone in her bridal chamber, and burst into tears, when the midnight hour rung out and she still desolate. At this critical moment, as Dame For tune would have it, a good-looking sailor, an old sweetheart of hers, stole softly into the house, and renewed bis vows. >Six years before ho bad ‘‘gone foreign,” and in his absence a report arose that lie had been lost at eea;‘ the bride, therefore, regarded him as one risen from the dead. He told her he had circumnavigated the. globe, and among other countries he had visited Aus tralia.. He bad brought home for her a gold watch and an hundred sovereigns, irreiis tible fellow ! and entreated her to accept him and his wealth. On went her bonnet and cloak, off went the bride, while her sot of a husband was snoozing under the arch. He rose at an early morn, covered with mud, and sneaked home to his lodgings, where lie found an empty nest; nor has he been able to hear a single syllable of the forsaken fugitive. PROGRESSION. .We live in an age at once important, eventful, and progressive; one which con stitutes A great epoch in the cycle which time is now advancing. It casts its bright ening glories before, and most significantly reveals to the ken of thinking man, the ex alted destiny which will be his. It is the soil in which is planted the millennial tree, whose roots arc striking deep, and whose branches are rising and expanding to shel ter universal man. There is one great principle which char acterizes our times more decidedly than any period of the past Mind io advancing in all that can promise glory and happiness It is soaring high into the realms of the material universe, and unfolding its Gou announcing wonders; it is piercing deep into the dark recesses of our little woild, and reading power, and wisdom, and good uGs in the handwriting traced by the find er of God upon the tablets of his own work .naoskip; it is disevering matter, and displaying the magical properties ot its component parts; it is subduing the long-es a ! dished tyranny of the old elements, and C 1 impelling them to yield then power sub* servient to the good ot man , mind is, in short, obtaining a glimpse of the true God through the media of His Word and His Works, and unravelling the mysteries <* the nature of man, developing the transcen dent powers with which he is endowed, unfolding the laws to which he is subject, physically, and spiritually; and, more than j all, if* anything can be more, is abandoning J error —ay, breaking tho thraldom, of sin, : and becoming free to take a high stand in the mural grades of the universe. Thus progress is onward. Heaven says, “pome up higher. ’’ and man would obey.— tnpnof}. TO YOUNG*MEN. That uever’ll do, young man ! No use to stand on the sidewalk and whine about hard luck, and say that everything goes against you. \ou are not of half the consequence that your talk wouid lead us to believe.— Ihe world hasn’t declared war against you —no such thing. It does not think of you. iou are like all the rest of us—a mere speck upon earth’s surface. Were you this mo ment to go down in the living tide, but a bubble would linger for a moment upon the yui face, and even that would vanish unno ticed. Ihe heart is tall of hope and ambi tion, but it is not missed when it ceases to beat. One such as you would not. leave a ripple. You are a coward—a coward in the bai lie. There’s no iigh* in you. You have surrendered without a struggle, and now whine because you are beaten! You are not yet worthy of a triumph, for you have not earned it. In garret, hut, and dripping cellar, are ten thousand heroes who would put you to shame. They must toil or starve. The strife is a desperate one with them, for they wrestle with want, while ragged and despairing ones watch at the lone hearth the fearful contest Strong men look death in the eye when the sinews are strung by the wail of hungry childhood. Shame on you. In the full vigor of health and manhood, no mouth but your own to fill, and no back but your own to cover, and yet crouching under the first scorchmgs of adverse fortune.— lou know nothing of the storm, for you have seen but the summer. One cloud has frightened you, and you think you are hard ly dealt by. You will be lucky if you find no darker shadows cross your path. Stand up, young sir, pull your hands from your pocket, throw off your coat and take fortune by the throat. You may be thrown again and again, but hang on. Put away the nonsense that the world is all against you. ’ Taint so. Your destiny is in your own strong arm. Wield it like a man ! With an unbending will, and honor and truth for a guide, the day is your own. No capital, eh ? You have capital. God has given you perfect health. That is an immense capital to start on. You have youth and strength—all invaluable. Add a will to do, put your sinews in motion and you win. A man in full health and strength, should never whine or despair, because for tune does not. pour a stream of gold eagles into his pockets. If you have no money, work and get it. Industry, economy and integrity, will do wonders. From such be ginnings, fortunes have been reared. They can be again. Will you try ? Or, will you wait for the stream to run by, so that you can walk dry shod into the El Dorado of wealth ? Or, will you meet the waves de fiantly, and be the architect of your own fortune? Try —it is glorious to conquer in the strife. Cayuga Chief. RIGHT KIND OF PREACHING. It was a beautiful criticism made by Longiuns upon the effect of the speaking of Cicero and Demosthenes. lie says the people would go from one of Cicero’s ora tions, exclaiming, “What a beautiful spea ker? What a rich, fine voice! What an el oquent man Cicero is !” They talk of Cic ero; but when they left Demosthenes, they said, “Let us fight Phillip!” Losing sight of the speaker they were all absorbed in the subject; they thought not of Demosth enes, but of their country. So my brethren let ns endeavor to send awaj T from our min istrations the Christian, with his mouth full of the praise—not of “our preacher,” but of God; and the sinner, not discanting upon the beautiful figures and well turned periods of the discourse, but inquiring with the brokenness of a penitent, “What shall Idoto be saved ?” So shall wo be blessed in our work; and when called to leave the watch-towers of our spiritual Je rusalem, through the vast serene, like the deep melody of an angel’s song, Heaven’s approving voice shall be heard:— “Servant of God, well done! Thy glorious warfare’s past; The battle’s fought, the victory’:: von, And thou art crowned at last.” GOOD AND BAD DANCING. The following article we copy from the Bardstown, Kv., Gazette : We seldom dance, although we have n > objection to attending dancing parties; and one reason we do not dance is that we can not dance Well, and never could. We took lessons from Joe Bean, years ago, ant| Joe lid his duty, no doubt, but somehow* our legs wouldn’t go off. We were laughed at on acco nt of our danci.ig in our younger days, andaresome times laulied at, on the same account, now; but we have one consolation, which is this —great men are seldom good dancers. We read that Napoleon was a very awk ward dancer. On one occasion he danced with a very beautiful countess, who conld not conceal her blushes at his ridiculous pos tures. On leadirg her to a seat he remark ed: ‘Tne fact is, madam, my forte lies not so much in dancing myself, as making oth ers dance.’ C TERMSSI.OO ADVANCE ) JAMES T. BLAIN. v. PRINTER. VOL. Xm-NOMBER 27. This reminds ns of an anecdote of Dan iel Webster, who being present at a ball in Washington during iiis incumbency as Secretary of State, was asked by an effem inate, foppish sort of a chap, who thought a good deal oi his own dancing, ‘don’t you I dance, Mr. Webster { I never see you dan | cing.’ ‘.No,’ said Mr. Webster, as he only | could say and look such things, T never > had the capacity, sir.’ A BROKEN HEAET. “Did he strike you?” asked a judge in Cincinnati, of a witness who had testified that her husband abused her. “No, sir,” replied the modest and deli cate looking woman, “he has never struck me, though he has often threatened to do it. He abuses me, and I am obliged to flee from his presence.” ‘•Did he break any of the furniture ?” asked the Court. “No, sir,” responded the witness, as a tear dropped from her eye, and she placed her hand on her bosom. “No sir he did mt break the furniture, but he has fre quently .threatened to break my heart, and he is doing it, sir.” Poor woman ? she evidently spoke the truth. This bloated monster who stood bes’de her, though he had once solemnly promised to love and protect her, is now her most bitter persecutor, her sorest trou ble. No doubt he once did love her. No doubt but that one time he would rather have died than cause a bitter tear to start from her soft blue eyes, but intemperance has unmanned, brutalized him, and he is now breaking her heart. Heaven help the drunkard’s wife! THE GOOD FELLOW. Proverbs have been called ‘-the current coin of wisdom’mong mankind;” and one of these sayings, which has been coined in the mint of modern every-day society, runs as follows: “A good fellow means good for nothing.” Who is the good fellow ? By observing a number of the individuals who have received this label in their daily inter course, we have concluded that he may be characterized as follows : He is very dem ocratic in his tastes and habits. He never refuses to make an acquaintance, however unworthy the proposed acquaintance may be. He is hand and glove—joke and laugh —with loafer and knave, equally with those persons of position who will condescend to accept him in spite of his associations. He will spend his last cent with a pot compan ion of the meanest stamp, while his family may lack some ordinary comforts at home. The idea of allowing a group of his associ ates to want for anything while he can com mand a sixpence, would be preposterous.— But to deny his children some little tiflefoi their amusement is simply a matter of econ omy. He can’t afford it. He world be a mean fellow to leave his associates before two and three o’clock in the morning—a straight land, sober sided home sick ninn; But to keep a wife waiting up till those hours—to rob her of her natural rest, is an affair to joke over when the next bottle is uncorked. To squander hundreds in dissi pation among the low and vileisiiberal and generous. To cheat the baker, the tailor and the shoemaker out of their hard earn ings is simply smart—a standing joke with the good fellow. In short, the good fellow is rendered a nuisance to society by being always generous before he is just—always liberal in dissipation and miserly where money is really wanted—always attentive to pot companions to the neglect ot his fam ily ; and finally, because his career general ly ends by his going to the almshouse to be supported at the public expense. RETRIBUTION. Franklin B. Hunt, of Franklin county, in this State, says the Vicksburg Whig! not long since got into a row with his brother, while drunk, and attempted to kill him. The father of the young men interfered to pre vent bloodshed, when Franklin turned on the old man, and with a knife inflicted a se vere and dangerous wound upon him. He was immediately arrested and placed in Jail A few days alter wards the wretched young man committed suicide in prison, by hanging himself. He left the following let ter, which was doubtless written a short tme before he took the dreadful leap into eternity: Gentlemen and Good Friends of Meadville , I now make my confession; I stabbed my father, but not with intent to 1 did it in a drunken spree—l am sorry for it, and hope the good friends of Meudville will for give me. I feel that 1 hast ly did wrong in a great many things. I have had no trial before a court, but tried myself, and think it a hanging matter, on account of its be ng my father. He has been kind to me. The gallows is at this time hanging over me. I suppose my trial will come off in town to morrow, but 1 cannot stay to hear it, and to be sentenced to the penitentiary—l cannot bear it. My weak mind will not allow it; I have been unfortunate and have few friends. I hope to go to a better world, where l can be happy. 1 am fatigued trom fixing the gallows, and cannot write, though my mind is not much confused. You all appear like good friends to me, though you think me in error. I wish this piece published for example to others. Farewell, my dear friends. Franklin B. Hunt, May 35th, 1856.